


Captain Tilly's Gambit

by Oparu (USSJellyfish)



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, starfleet war games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27980604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/USSJellyfish/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: Tilly has to engage with the Starfleet tradition of fighting her commanding officer in Starfleet war games. Using an unfamiliar ship and fighting Saru (even fake fighting) is intimidating enough, having the former Emperor as first officer just makes it worse.Thanks Michael, what a dreadful idea.
Relationships: Michael Burnham & Mirror Philippa Georgiou, Michael Burnham & Sylvia Tilly, Mirror Philippa Georgiou & Sylvia Tilly
Comments: 13
Kudos: 41





	Captain Tilly's Gambit

**Author's Note:**

> Tilly plays war games with Philippa as number one (don't call her that). Humor, friendship, little bits of reluctant vulnerability. (fake) space battle. Snark.

"It's a combat simulation," Michael says, gently, logically. Dammit. "You don't have as much combat experience as she does."

"She conquered a galaxy."

"See, that could be useful."

"She won't listen to me. She thinks I'm useless." 

"She doesn't."

"That's what she says."

"What she says has very little relation to what she actually thinks, and she's gotten nicer since--" Michael pauses, searching for words. They almost lost her, and as infuriating and terrifying as the former Emperor is, she's Michael's mom. 

"I know."

"I'll remind her to be good."

"Yeah, that'll totally help."

"You'll be fine." Michael sets her fork down on her tray. "Besides, if you pick Georgiou, she can't be on the ship going after you." 

"That's a good point."

"Told you." Michael lifts her coffee, leaning in. "You're going against Saru, which is Starfleet tradition. He gets the better ship, but you get to pick your crew. I know she scares you, but she's very, very smart."

"I'm smart."

"In a murderous way."

"I'm not smart that way."

"Which is fine! Murder is rarely something you need to do."

"Except for this training exercise."

"We all go through it, back when I was on the  _ Shenzhou _ , Captain Georgiou kicked my ass. She totally faked me in and slaughtered my crew. It was brutal." 

"Really?" She hasn't heard this story. 

"Oh yeah. She was kinder in the official logs, because she didn't want to hurt my confidence, but she was a tactical genius. Our Philippa is too."

"And evil."

Michael smiles, and it's not reassuring. "Tilly, you want evil on your side for this."

"Why can't I pick you?"

"I'd be easy."

"Don't I want this to be easy?"

"You already know how to work with me, so it's not a challenge. Saru will expect to be fighting you and I, Philippa will throw him. And she's a good engineer."

"Don't I get Stamets?"

"But then Saru gets Reno."

Tilly taps her commbadge to summon the holopadd and sighs. "This is horrible! I shouldn't have to fight half the crew!"

"It's a war game."

"War shouldn't be a game! Why hasn't this gone away in 900 years?" 

"It has been inflicted on everyone, even Admiral Vance, Captain Pike-- it happened to them so now it happens to you."

"But I've only been captain when I was pretending to be that other captain, and the other me was evil so I didn't really do much captaining, I was just mean."

"Well don't be mean," Michael says, grinning. "Maybe be a little mean to Georgiou, she likes it."

"Can't I pick the cat or something?"

"Grudge would never listen to you."

Maybe Michael has a point. The cat might actually be harder to work with than Georgiou. "Are you still going to be on my ship?"

"Of course! I just can't be first officer. I can be your pilot, or tactical.""

"Because Saru will take Detmer?"

"If you take Georgiou and me, he'll definitely take Detmer." Michael passes her PADD over. "You should take Owosekun so they're split up." 

"Oh that's smart."

"And she knows how Detmer thinks and then Saru can't have her for first officer."

"He already picked Bryce."

"How do you know?"

"Heard it in the gym, because there's nothing else going on for everyone to think about. Everyone just wants to play war games."  


Michael smiles again. It's so easy for her to be positive. "It'll be fine. Trust me." 

She does trust Michael. Michael's smart, super smart and she knows people but there's no way Emperor Philippa Georgiou Augustus Iaponius Centarius will agree to be her first officer. 

It's never going to happen. Asking is going to be humiliating and horrible and--

She still has to do it. Her other options are great officers and they'd be really helpful but Saru knows them and he knows how they think and he could never figure out Georgiou. She'd be unpredictable. 

So Tilly straightens her uniform, imagines she's just staring at a phaser or something less scary than Michael's evil alternate universe mom. So many things are less scary than that. Like, most of the things.   


She taps the door. 

"Come in," Georgiou says. That's almost polite. She must think it's Michael or Culber, she's been spending a lot of time with Culber. She's almost nice to him, sometimes. 

Walking through the door, Tilly stops exactly one step in. Can't go to far without being invited. She'll probably get something thrown at her head. She wasn't expecting candles, or art. Tilly's not really sure what she was expecting (skulls on the wall? Whips and chains?). It even smells nice, a little bit like incense and warm wood. Georgiou sits on the sofa, reading a book. 

An honest to goodness paper book. 

Fuck. 

Maybe it's made out of skin or something. 

"Tilly."

"Hi, uh, sorry for bothering you."

"You haven't bothered me yet."

"Oh, give me a minute." 

Georgiou smiles. She doesn't have pointed teeth, but that look is close. Georgiou must bite, like Andorian ice snakes. "You can have two."

"Two, well, I uh, probably only need about fifteen seconds if I don't ramble, but I ramble when I'm nervous and this makes me really nervous."

"Go on."

"Oh no, you don't want me to keep talking, you'll just say something mean again and try to make me leave in tears."

"It's tempting."

"But that's not really you, is it?"

"It might be." Georgiou hasn't moved. She sits like a cat, just as unpredictable, confusing, and dangerous. "You have no way to know." 

"I could try your patience and then you'll--"

"Maybe I'm still recovering and not feeling particularly murderous, or I have something to prove and ending you might help me feel more like my wicked self." Georgiou shuts her book and rests it on the sofa beside her. "What do you want to ask?"

"How do you know I'm going to ask?"

"You wouldn't be here unless you were desperate." 

"True."

"Desperation could be fun for me." 

That smile is evil, like actual evil and oh she should just go. It would be safer to go. 

"I need you."

"Yes, you do."

"You're not going to ask for what?"

"Everyone knows about your war games, Tilly. If you're smart, and you are, you'll ask me to be on your crew-"

"First officer."

"What?" Georgiou pauses, then smiles, eyes wide with surprise. 

"No one would expect it."

"That's a certainty."

"I'm terrified of you and you're so mean to me."

Georgiou leaves the sofa and heads for the little table by the replicator. She pours two glasses of something (Poison? Venom? Alcohol?) and hands one to Tilly.

"So you think that might surprise Saru?"

"You're good at combat, really good, scary good, like conquered the whole fucking galaxy good, so if I listen to you, it'll be really different from me, and then we'll win."

"And you want to win."

Tilly grabs the cup and takes a gulp, counting on the burn to help her nerves. "I do, see I really do. I want to win so much that I'm actually talking to you and you're--"

"I agree."

"What?" Maybe the wine went right to her head.   


"You may not call me Number One."

"No, no, of course not, I'd never dare."

"Good." Georgiou refills Tilly's glass, then raises her own to her. "Then drink and we have a deal."

Tilly lifts her glass, trying to remind herself not to rush, but fuck it. This is terrifying and what has she just gotten herself into?

"This is Saru's wine."

"He didn't ask for it back." Georgiou smirks and settles back down on the sofa, wine nearby. "He should have, real wine is rare." 

"I think he's been distracted trying to figure out what kind of captain he is." 

Georgiou takes another sip, slowly, and she hasn't kicked Tilly out yet so maybe this is them bonding? Michael says they talk late into the night all the time now because _Philippa_ \- Tilly will never be able to call her Philippa- feels like she belongs here now. 

And like all of them, she's trying to figure out who she is here, now, in this universe.  Maybe even the former emperor gets lonely. 

"What kind of captain is he?" Georgiou asks, remarkably without malice. 

Tilly should think more, but she talks. She always just tumbles into things and Georgiou makes it worse just by being terrifying. "I don't think he knows yet." 

"But what do you think?"

"I think he's great."

Setting down her wine, Georgiou leans forward, hands on her knees. For once she's not wearing some leather dominatrix outfit, though it's still black. This is softer. It doesn't creak when she moves. Is she wearing fabric like a normal fabric like a normal person?  


"How is he great?"

"He's thoughtful, supportive, he develops his crew. He takes his time to study a situation, he looks for a peaceful solution."

Georgiou leans back again, rolling her eyes. "How can you exploit that?" 

"Wait, what?"

"The point of this exercise, whether Starfleet admits it or not, is that you work with him, so you can see his weaknesses."

"And if I see that I can help him see them."

Georgiou lifts her hand, and Tilly wastes half a moment trying not to flinch but she's just covering her mouth before she yawns. Not even boredom yawn, a genuine, exhausted yawn. "See, you're a captain after all." 

Michael said her recovery had been slower than she wanted, and she's been so protective. This must be why. 

"I'll let you get back to plotting the overthrow of Starfleet-" Tilly starts, but Georgiou cuts her off.

"I'm going to bed."

"Okay." There's nothing else to say, just get out as politely as possible before something bad happens. "Okay, thank you."

"You're welcome." 

Still holding the wine glass, Tilly's out in the hall before she remembers. Shit. Just take it. It's from the ship anyway. She can just get another one. Don't ring the bell again. Don't ruin a decent conversation by being awkward. Carrying the glass all the way back to her quarters, she sets it on the shelf. Then sits on the bed. When she lies down, she can't help being thrilled, just for a moment.   


Captain Tilly has a nice ring to it. Focus on that, not Georgiou stabbing her in the ready room so she can take over. That totally won't happen. Michael will be there. That's enough to stop that, even though it's a game and maybe killing her in a game wouldn't be that evil and maybe--

Stop.

Read the technical manuals of the ship, read articles about the mycelium. Focus. Think about being captain and how it might feel to win.   


* * *

Standing in the shuttlebay, they divide the crew. Tilly stands to the side, hands still for once, and she makes her choices like a child choosing a hoverball team.   


"Georgiou."

Philippa doesn't listen much after her name, it is far too interesting to watch Saru hide his surprise as she saunters over to Tilly. Of course, he would pretend to be pleased with Tilly's suggestions, he'll smile and be gracious and polite because that is what he sees as good leadership. Soft. Accommodating. 

But he sees her as a rogue element, and that bothers him. Good. This is already fun. She stands over behind Tilly, arms folded. 

Michael smiles at her a little when she's picked next. "Are you going to play nice?"

"Not remotely."

"Good." Michael's smile blooms in a grin. "Saru could use a challenge, and Tilly needs the win."

"She does, this lack of confidence must have come from not killing her mother." 

Michael gives her a look. 

"I'm serious about that." 

"So you're not serious when it's your mother."

"I didn't say that."

"You also didn't kill her."

Rolling her eyes is not an answer, but Michael will not be convinced. That's part of the fun. They load the gear into the shuttle, preparing to head over to their vessel, which Tilly will undoubtedly name something ridiculous.  Michael somehow manages not to fuss about her carrying tools, or breathing, because she's been such a hovering mother hen since she got out of Sickbay. It's not like Culber's not right here to also worry too much. 

He even touches her shoulder, and smiles.  She should break his fingers, but she just doesn't have it in her. They might need his hands. She's being practical; she doesn't actually like him or think he's a good doctor. 

The ship they've been handed to play with is a few hundred years newer than  _ Discovery _ , but she has not had the benefit of time travel and her years show in the corridors. She was sturdy, once, and there's some hope in the way the phasers have been mounted on the hull, but it'll take them much longer than the two days they get for the retrofit to really make this a warship.  


"All the programmable matter in the universe isn't going to make this a match for _Discovery_ ," she mutters to herself. 

The child with the mollusc next to her shrugs. "Eisenberg-class cruisers are good ships. The shield configuration should be useful to us." 

"How so?"

"Discovery has 23rd century phaser banks that have been retrofit with current technology and targeting sensors, we can exploit that because an Eisenberg-class ship has an older form of resonance shielding. Means we can--"

"Scatter their targeting sensors. Smart."

That child, who is not really a child, smirks. "Thanks."

Stamets beams, as if this one has already become his. "We'll make life very difficult for them."

So they get to work, and it's not as frustrating as she expects. Yes, they're annoying, and yes, they're constantly distracted by little things and they just won't stop talking, but they pull the ship together, replacing the burnt out components, cobbling the sensors in for the war games, making her shipshape. After two days, they christen her the _USS Cornwell_ , after their Admiral Katrina and it's not even full of blubbering. 

Michael even brought good liquor, thanks to the man with the giant cat. 

"To the Admiral, I think she'd be proud."

"She would," Michael says, lifting her glass. "Especially after we beat Saru tomorrow."

"Kayla's going to sulk if we win, she'll sulk for days," Owosekun says, chuckling. "It'll be so worth it." 

Their ship christening is more jovial than a memorial and even though she could leave and spend the evening in her own company, Philippa remains, listening more than talking. They're funny sometimes, Michael's crew, and watching Tilly interact with them as she finds herself as a captain has promise. She'll be a good leader, a soft captain for this soft universe, and she can't even summon as much of a sneer as she would wish at the idea.  


Must be the liquor going to her head. Her lips tingle in a way they haven't, not for years and universes. She rarely let herself be intoxicated and tonight she's barely had a glass. 

She's weak, convalescing, recovering: all of those terrible words. It's not bad while she's sitting down, but when she stands, her balance is off. There's too much laughter and storytelling for anyone to notice. Luckily, Michael's telling one of her courier adventures and she's too busy to fuss. Alas,  Philippa does not escape Culber's notice. 

"I told you not to drink."

"You tell me not to do anything fun."

"I gave you a short list of approved, careful fun that won't damage your barely recovered brain."

She pushes off the wall and folds her arms over her chest. She can stand up straight, just move slowly. Don't blink, don't lick her lips. Keep it together.   


"Philippa--"

"I know, I know, I was nearly dead."

"Your body's been through a trauma I can barely begin to imagine, and I have dead, for quite awhile, and lived with space mushrooms."

At least he can joke about it. 

"Drink some water. Be gentle with yourself. We call these games, but we'll be putting ourselves through a lot, and you've already been through much more than that, you're barely over it-"

"I'm fine."

"You've been reconstructed on the quantum level."

"Good as new."

"Except you can't hold your liquor."

She should snap back at him; tell him to hold onto his severed head, or imagine his own liver in his hands, but he's right. Her eyesight's a little blurry and her lips tingle and her reflexes are off because Tilly's behind her without Philippa noticing. 

"Everything okay?"

"I'm fine, he's being nosy."

Culber crosses his arms. "Philippa's not taking her recovery from the brink of subatomic destruction seriously."

Tilly's all too innocent face flashes with concern. "But you've cleared her for the mission."

"Sure, within limits, that she needs to be aware of."

"I am aware," Philippa says, leaving them to talk about her like a naughty child. "I am acutely aware, I just don't care to stay within them."

"Which will be a problem if you keep ignoring them!" Culber calls after her and he and Tilly talk in quiet, concerned voices long after she's disappeared into the ship. 

Alone, she rests her hand on the wall and takes a moment, waiting for the ship to still beneath her feet. She had barely a glass, nothing compared to what she's drunk before then fought off Klingon assassins.

New atoms, new weaknesses. Philippa takes a breath, then another, and shakes it off enough to walk back to her temporary quarters. Drinking water as ordered, she sits on the bed, listening to the ship beneath her feet. She has a different sound than  _ Discovery _ , higher pitched. Sometimes she can still feel the  _ Charon _ , back in her former universe, but she can no longer say that feels like home. 

This universe doesn't really either, not yet, but her molecules belong here now. Whatever that means. 


End file.
